


A change that was obvious but went unnoticed (except by Mummy Holmes of course)

by indigomountian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, secret feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigomountian/pseuds/indigomountian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has feelings for Sherlock and actualy manages to keep a secret form the worlds only consulting detective, but not from Mummy Holmes; and like any good mummy she makes everything better. Johnlock will come. (oh get your mind out of the gutters that's not what I meant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He laid there with a leg slung over the top of the couch and one resting on the coffee table, an arm dramatically covering his eyes as he moaned (trying to annoy me enough to get my gun for him, that was just so not going to happen.) The only good thing about Sherlock moaning like that was with his eyes covered was I could stare as much as I wanted until he moved, and I wanted to stare so very much. When ever the opportunity arises I take it but not nearly often enough for my liking.

It has been weeks since our last case and the kitchen has been littered with experiments for nearly as long, but while they entertain Sherlock for a while they're not a lasting distraction, nothing is; though with his legs spread that far apart I can't find it in me to complain, as specially when he moans like that, I can almost imagine- that thought had to be cut off before it was even started because looking when I know for certain Sherlock isn't is one thing, but if I ended up with a stiffy by the time Sherlock looked up there was no way that would escape his all seeing eye. In fact I'm entirely suprised he hasn't noticed my attraction and feelings as it is, imagine being the one person to keep a secret from the infallible Sherlock Holmes; unless he already knows, but that's highly unlikely due to the fact that he is very forward and would have said something almost immediately. What if he does know though and he's just waiting for the chance to use it as black mail? No, that's just silly, why would that even work as black mail, I'm not ashamed of it, but could he know that? Of course he could. But no, its just paranoia, snap out of it John.   
  
"JOHN! Are you even listening to me?" Came the irate voice from under an arm.   
  
"No, sorry, what were you saying?" Admittedly I was far more absorbed in my own thoughts about the man than the man himself.   
  
"I _said_ get me my phone, I've got a text message" I rolled my eyes at this because I knew for a fact that it was in the pocket of his dressing gown, which he just happened to be wrapped in. Getting up from my arm chair, I walked the three steps to the couch and attempted to reach the pocket that was underneath the irksome log on the couch, though to be blatantly clear it was the _hottest_ irksome log that there had ever been. The log was not helpful in this endeavor because, being a log, it did not move and was very heavy; though it was still to light for its size.   
  
After much maneuvering and struggling I finally got to Sherlocks' phone and looked to see who the message was from, "Its Mycroft," I told him already knowing what his response would be before saying a word.   
  
As expected he gave something between a growl and a grunt before saying, "Just delete it, don't even bother opening it. I'm not interested."   
  
"Sherlock you've been cooped up in here without a case for _WEEKS_! Don't you at least want to know what it is?" I tried coaxing, knowing it would take a lot to break Sherlock Holmes and not really willing to exert that kind of energy at the moment. I decided to just read the text myself and seeing if it was even worth it before trying to pique my moody flat mates interest.   
  
"No, I _don't_ want to know what it is; and don't think about and reading it, it's _my_ phone, and I told you to delete it." He said trying to be firm, but since he lacked the determination to move even a millimeter at the moment his position severely decreased the affect the tone of his voice had, not that that voice turned me on any less, it was just less intimidating. I obviously opened the text regardless of his wishes (I know I'm a cold hard criminal and should be locked up) but Sherlock needed to get out of the house for a while and if Mycroft was dangling something juicy enough, then Sherlock couldn't resist.   
  
The disappointment at opening the text and finding that it was, in fact, not a case was astonishing but then I was intrigued because, while there was no murder nor any mystery there was a demand that Sherlock call Mycroft to discuss the particulars on a trip 'home to Mummy' for her birthday.   
  
"Mycroft wants you to call him, he says your mothers birthday is coming up and he wants the two of you to visit."  
  
"John, I specifically told you to delete that, I'm not going anywhere with him and he knows it." Sherlock said stubbornly.  
  
"If course you're going Sherlock, It's your mothers _birthday_ , I don't care about your opinion of your brother you're going, even if I have to drag you myself." It was unthinkable, not visiting your mother on her birthday, the only time I didn't was when I was in the army and even then, one year I scheduled my leave for her birthday as a surprise.  
  
"Wonderful, start packing John."  
  
"Wait, what?" I was thoroughly confused, "Sherlock I'm not packing your things for you, do it yourself." And I started back to my chair realizing I had been standing there the entire time and my tea was getting cold. Sitting down and taking a sip I found the word _getting_ no longer applied and I put it back down with a sigh.  
  
"No John, do keep up. You pack _your_ suit case, I have plenty of clothes to wear at Mummy's."  
  
"Wait no, Sherlock, I'm not going to your mothers house, you are. Why would I go?"  
  
"You just offered John, really. I now know you don't listen to me when I speak, but apparently you don't even listen to _yourself_ speak."  
  
"Sherlock no, I didn't mean I'll go with you, I'm not. I just meant that you're going whether you want to or not." Why was Sherlock trying to rope me into this?   
  
"Well I'm not going unless you go too, and you seem very adamant about me going so I suppose that's the end of it right there. Unless you've changed your mind in the last minute and decided I can stay here."  
  
"Really Sherlock, you're going to be this difficult?" I waited a moment and he gave a nod as if to say _You bet I am!_   "Fine, when do we have to leave"  
  
"Tonight." He said, not sounding at all like he was aware of how tremendous an ass he was being right now. Though I'm sure he did know.   
   
" _Tonight!_ Sherlock, I have work in the morning and why would your brother start planing this now!" I couldn't keep the exasperation out of my voice, honestly sometimes I feel like Sherlock exists just to cause trouble in my life.  
  
"He didn't, he's been trying to call me for weeks, I've just been ignoring him because I don't want to talk to him. And you know you can take the time off, you do it every time we have a case."  
  
"Sherlock! Damn it, why would- How cou-" Breathe, just breathe John, calm down, "I'm going to go pack, how long will we be gone?" There, very calm and reasonable sounding, good job. I enjoyed a mental pat on the back.  
  
"Three days, you'll only miss tomorrow, you have Friday and Saturday off this week, and..." There was the fraction of a pause, "I'm glad you're coming John" Sherlock said much softer and warmer looking up from under his arm for a moment to lock eyes before resuming his former position. I didn't say anything in return because there wasn't anything _to_ say to that... or if there was I didn't know it, and continues on to my room to pack. After staring for a few minutes that is.


	2. Chapter 2

I decided to put my bag near the door because I assumed Mycroft would be here at any time to pick us up. Not knowing quite what to pack I ended up over packing, ready for anything. I had a suit (though nowhere near as high quality as any of Sherlocks), jeans, t-shirts, even swim trunks, you never know (as specially with Sherlock). I had to wonder what Mrs. Holmes was like, probably very much like her two boys, very reserved and stoic, it seemed to fit. While we waited for our ride (how long we would be waiting I had no clue) I set to making another cup of tea, due to the room temperature quality that my last cup had adopted. Sherlock, no big surprise, had not moved since I had left to pack; I was still (in the back of my mind) dwelling on the last time he did move, to look at me. It was just so rare for Sherlock to say things with such true sincerity, it was quite jarring. He really wanted me to go with him, I have to wonder why; though I suppose there was no dwelling on Sherlock motives, I'd be there all day.

"Sherlock, do you want a cuppa tea?" I asked raising my voice a bit so there was no need to move out of the spot in the kitchen I occupied. A grunt of affirmation came sounding from the other room, I had become quite adept at the Sherlockian language of grunts. I took another cup down from the cabinet and put three spoon fulls of sugar into it while I waited for the water to boil and got the milk from the fridge next to a bowl of eyeballs and finger tips (I had learned long ago not to ask). Once the kettle was boiling I filled the cups and stuck the teabags in while I walked to the sitting room, setting Sherlocks cup near his leg on the coffee table.

"John, did you know that the tea bag was invented in 1904, quite by accident as it was only supposed to be a sample of the tea Thomas Sullivan sold. They were in small silk bags and people thought to put the whole thing in the hot water, not knowing what it was meant for, thus the tea bag." Sherlock said through his arm, blindly reaching for the cup of tea he couldn't reach without leaning slightly to the right. With a sigh I reached out and took his cup, putting it in his hand, if I hadn't he surely would have spilled it out of spite... or laziness, it was very hard to tell with that man.

"No, I didn't know that, why do you?" It seamed like a very frivolous fact for Sherlock to keep in his head. Instead of answering he took a sip of tea that probably burned his mouth and shrugged.

* * *

 It was another hour before Mycroft came knocking ant the door and we set off, saying our goodbyes to Mrs. Hudson before we shut the door. It was a very long ride, very _very_ long indeed, partly because Mycroft and Sherlock didn't say a word to each other the entire ride, and partly because every time I tried to break the very brittle silence I would get a glare... well two glares, one from each Holmes. It was also a very long ride because the Holmes home was very far away.

I was quite relieved to get there just to get out of the suffocating silence and into the open air, where I didn't have a Holmes on either side. The house, well it wasn't really a house more like a mansion, was beautiful it looked old and regal; like its history was filled with prestige and nobles (which it probably was). Admirably, I managed to keep my lower jaw firmly attached to my upper, which deserved another mental pat on the back.

Almost as soon as the car came to a stop outside th front doors they were flung open and an incredibly excited woman came running out with a smile on her face. Almost before Sherlock was out of the door her arms were around his neck. He hadn't even straitened up yet, which was the only reason she could reach his neck in the first place. I even had a few inches on her.

"Sherlock its so good to see you, its been to long Chéri!" I was absolutely flabbergasted when instead of stiffening up and giving her a reproachful face he picked her up and swung her around before putting her down.

"Its good to see you too, Mummy." That smile, it's not often that he has a smile like that on, I've only seen it once or twice, "I'd like to introduce you to a very good friend of mine. Mummy, this is John Watson. John, this is my mother."

I scrambled to get out of the car at that moment because I had just been staring half in half out, it really wasn't something you see every day. A once in a lifetime occurrence I'd say. Once I was finally out of the damnable vehicle I straitened and gave her a smile intending to shake her hand; she had other plans. All at once I was pulled into a hug by the hand and squeezed within a half an inch of my life by a woman five inches shorter than me.

" _Oh no_ , any one that Sherlock thinks is good enough to bring home is good enough for a hug!" I recovered from my surprise and hugged back, she was quite comforting if not a little eccentric, but what else would you expect from a Holmes (I will say though, it wasn't _quite_ this, a short affectionate woman who smelled like tea and baking.)

"It's very nice to meet you Mrs. Holmes."

"There will be none of that either, call me Violet please." She has such a charismatic smile, she was defiantly not what I'd been expecting, at all.

"Oh, of course." She gave me a look that I did very much recognize, she was deducing me. I stayed  still and let her get a good look, its nothing I wasn't used to with the Holmes brothers. It seamed that even if the siblings didn't get their stature and lack of outward emotions from her they may have gotten something a bit less physical. Unless you see it everyday you probably wouldn't have noticed it to begin with, which is very cleaver. Who would suspect a cute little woman of knowing everything about you just from a glance? She gave me a knowing smile and turned to Mycroft.

"Mycroft, I'm glad you could convince Chéri to come," She announced as her arms came to wrap around Mycroft before he could stand at his full height and be out of her reach.

"Actually mother, it's John you have to thank for Sherlocks appearance today."

"Oh really," She say, a silent conversation that was over in seconds flashed through their eyes, I'm not even sure I saw it really. "Well then John it seams I owe you another hug." She said as she tugged me down again. I wasn't caught off guard this time and hugged back.

"I couldn't just let Sherlock ignore his mothers birthday like he does most everything else." I said, feeling I should try and speak seeing as I've only said two sentences to her so far. She gave me another smile and turned locking arms with Sherlock as she led us inside, presumably our bags would be brought in for us, well my bag, the Holmes brothers brought very little. (By very little I mean nothing)

The sitting room was vast but didn't echo, due to the numerous oriental rugs (which each probably cost more than our entire flat). We moved through into a much smaller sitting room with a pot of steaming tea on the table. Mycroft went to the cabinet off to the side without being asked and took out four cups and five saucers. I looked at him as he sat them down a cup on each saucer and a second in front of his mother. While I didn't know why she needed two, I didn't think I would have to ask to find out, as Sherlock would say, _'You merely have to observe.'_ Sure enough once she had tea in her cup sweetened to her liking (the same way Sherlock likes it as it happened) she tipped her cup to spill her tea into her saucer and mover her cup to the other saucer. Then she lifted the saucer full of tea up to her lips and drank it. That made a bit more sence now that he'd seen it, because the rest of them were still waiting for their tea to cool, quite ingenious.

"I know it seams a bit peculiar but it really is how all the ladies used to drink it, besides I detest cold tea, but I also detest scalding my mouth." She explained with a smile that always seamed to be on her face, obviously having caught on to my stares. I nodded because there wasn't much to say, or at least I didn't know what I should be talking about yet, nor what topic would be appropriate. Sherlock and Mycroft were having a glowering contest and I decided not to interfere with that one. "So John Watson, how do you know my son?"

"I believe you already know that, and quite a bit more. I may not be a Sherlock Holmes but I know what the deduction face looks like."

Her smile became yet wider. "I'm impressed, congratulations, most people don't notice, but I suppose living with Sherlock as long as you have you would be able to recognize it. Boys, why don't you go see how dinner is coming along, I want to have a chat with Doctor Watson." For seaming so cheery she was very commanding, both Holmes' brothers were gone before I knew why. Sherlock actually took an order, this is a completely different side of him. After they were well and gone she spoke again, "So John, what are your intentions with my son?"

My first instinct was to flush crimson red and stare open mouthed at her, my instincts didn't give me any further advice. Then I tried to find words, "Wh- what, intention? With S-Sherlock. What do you mean, I... don't understand"

"Really John, don't you though?" She smirked and filled another saucer full of tea.

"I have no intentions, really I don't," And that was the truth, how she even saw that is well beyond me but I had made a promise to myself that I could look but that was it because nothing could ever come of it, not with Sherlock the emotionally stinted consulting detective.

"And why ever not?" She said smiling a bit less than before while she drained her saucer again. I ventured a sip of my own tea while I tried to find words.

"Because, he's Sherlock... and while I have seen some emotion from him when I dig very hard... it doesn't seem like he's interested in having a relationship anything more than what we have. And even if he were interested in things like that I'm hardly what he'd want." I didn't mean to say all that but her gaze just seamed to strip me of all pretenses and as the truth of my own words hit me I felt cold and lonely.

"And why would you be _'hardly what he'd want'_ " She asked focusing on that statement.

"Well, because I'm just boring ordinary John Watson." And that rang just a little to true and my heart felt sore.

"Well _'Just Boring, Ordinary John Watson'_   what I saw when I deduced you was a strong, brave, and very loyal, army doctor who keeps an unregistered Sig Sauer P226R on him at all times, who keeps in wonderful shape by running constantly (I can only assume _after my son_ who is running after dangerous criminals), and has the patience to put up with my son. That doesn't seem ordinary or boring to me." She said all this and waited for a response while drinking some more tea.

I flushed "Um, thank you. But still, Sherlock is... Sherlock. Married to his work and not really one for emotions. I've only ever seen him smile a real smile like he did at you a few times, and I've known him for a few years."

"Who, may I ask, was it that made him smile like that?" She put her saucer down and looked back at me.

"Oh, me..." after I said that I stopped, Mrs. Holmes seemed content to wait for me to finish my train of thought. I was going through every time Sherlock had smiled (a real smile) trying to remember a time when it wasn't at me, I just couldn't find any. But that can't be, I must have just not been paying enough attention, he had to have but I just couldn't think of when. I looked back at Mrs Holmes and she was smirking a smirk that reminded me very much of Sherlock. "Do you mean that, but- he couldn't... He."

"Maybe you should have a talk with my Chére after dinner." That's when I idly realized that she wasn't saying Chére but something like sher-y and that that was a nickname, not a strange pronunciation of a French pet name. But I wasn't really focusing on that right now, my mind was reeling with the possibility that Sherlock had feelings for me too.

"How do you-" I started to say but she cut me off.

"He's my son, I raised the boy, _I know._ He wouldn't have brought you here to meet me unless he had a very special place for you in his life, and he's nervous which means he wants us to hit it off. Meaning he wants a more permanent place for you in his life." My heart felt like it was about to explode it was beating so fast with possibilities. I hadn't noticed Sherlocks nervousness, but then again she raised him and I had been focused on his 'mummy' because it was a whole new part of Sherlock that I was allowed to know and I intended to. "So I'll ask again John, what are your intentions with my son."

"I've been in love with him since he first deduced me. I intend to become as close to him as he'll let me." My honesty shocked me yet again, I blushed because that was very, very revealing and I probably shouldn't have said it. She didn't say anything else but she smiled very wide again and smiling was, in all likelihood, very contagious because I now had a big stupid grin on my face.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner seemed to last for ever, all I wanted to do was talk to Sherlock, it's all I could think about right now. There was still doubt in my mind that Mrs. Holmes was actualy right about Sherlock having feelings for _me_ of all people, or feelings like that in general. But if there was a chance, then there was no way in hell I was going to waist it.

I didn't taste a single thing that was put in front of me but I ate, if only for appearances. I wasn't hungry in the least, my stomach was to filled with butterflies. After what felt like hours dinner was finally over. The only problem was, I hadn't spent a second thinking of what I was going to _say_ to Sherlock or even how to get him alone, because I surely wasn't going to confront him about something like this in front of his family, even if his mother already knew.

I actually didn't have to figure out how to get Sherlock alone he did that for me, lucky me... but I still have no idea how to broach the subject _'Hey Sherlock. I'm attracted to you, wanna fuck?'_   Somehow I don't think he'd go for it. Sherlock pulled me along, presumably to his room, as I tried to think of how to start a conversation like this with a self diagnosed sociopath. Once we were in what was decidedly Sherlocks room he sat me down on the bed and stared at me for a good long while, which was fine with me because I was still having an argument with myself on the best way to start, because I had no clue. _No. clue_.

"What's wrong John?" Sherlock asked a tinge of concern in his voice. That broke me out of my stupor.

"Nothing's wrong." I said reflexively, it was true, nothing was wrong I was just... tongue-tied I suppose was the best way to describe it.

"John, don't lie. There is obviously something wrong. You've been antsy all evening and you ate so mechanically. I'm not even sure you knew what it was you were eating, because you hate mushrooms and you didn't make the smallest effort to pick them out. You also haven't said more than one sentence at a time since we got here. If you didn't want to come you didn't have to." By the end of his small rant Sherlock seemed sad, but he was trying to hide it, if I hadn't been paying attention I _defiantly_ would have missed it.

"No, that's not it. I like your mother she's very nice. I'm just trying to think of something." Sherlocks shoulders visibly relaxed at that.

"What are you trying to think of, maybe I can help." He looked attentive and I blushed, this was probably the best chance I was going to get.

"Um, sure." I patted the bed beside me and he took the invitation without hesitation. "So, you see I was talking with your mum and... um" Sherlock paled, I didn't dare to look at him, but out of the corner of my eye I saw it. "Well, she made me realize something." I broke off chancing a look to gauge his reaction.

"And, what did you realize," He was hiding it but the fear was there in his voice, underneath layers of cold ice.

"Well, we were talking and I found that the only other person who you've ever smiled like that for, that I can recall at least, was me. Correct me if I'm wrong." I waited for him to speak and eventually he did.

"What conclusions have you drawn from this then." Now he defiantly seamed fearful, his fists were clenched into the duvet and his whole body was ridged.

"I have come to believe that you may have... feelings for me" There was no way I could look now, just no way.

"And..."

"And what, that's all I've got, am I right?" I am literally flying blind, I didn't think past the dinner table! What do I do if he says yes? What if he says _NO_?

"Yes. You are correct, but as you may have noticed I have not made any advances nor will I. So unless it makes you to uncomfortable I would like to operate as if it is not a fact, I am perfectly fine with just your company." His voice seemed dead and cold. My brain completely shut down for a moment, he thought I was rejecting him, he thought I was angry, he wanted to forget about it. my heart clenched for a moment.

"I can't do that, Sherlock. I can't just forget about it."

His tone was utterly heartbroken when he spoke immediately after he thought I was done talking, like he had expected rejection, "I understand, I'll start packing my thi-" I cut him off before he could finish his sentence with my lips mashed against his mouth. I could hear the gears grinding to a screeching stop in his head, and then turning in the opposite direction at double speed when he started tentatively kissing back. When we parted for air he spoke again, "I don't understand, I was under the assumption that-"

"Sherlock do you know that saying about when you assume, well you are definitely making an ass out of me. Did you really think your mother would tell me that without knowing I felt the same?"

"But... no John. I have looked for the signs, believe me I've been looking for the signs that you might reciprocate but they weren't there."

"You really are an idiot sometimes. I was going for that; the whole you not knowing thing. It was a secret. I didn't think you would ever share my feelings because as you've said you're _'married to your work'_ and I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to separate you two, so I thought it would be easier to make sure you didn't know at all. Apparently I was fairly proficient at hoodwinking you, but your mother was a different case entirely."

"So, what you're saying is you would be open to a... romantic relationship with me?" I rolled my eyes and pulled him into another kiss, this time running my tongue along his bottom lip, begging for entrance. The small gasp was all I needed to slide my tongue into his mouth for my first real taste. I muffled a moan from his mouth with my own. His arms came around me and we were sufficiently tanged. "I'm going to take that as a yes." Sherlock murmured as he pulled away for oxygen. I took the opportunity to ravage his neck with my teeth lips and tongue.

Seeking a better position Sherlock swung a long gangly leg over my lap and strattled me on the edge of the bed. I was thoroughly surprised he'd take such a bold step. Looking up into his face again he was completely flush and had a surprisingly sheepish look on his face. It hit me that I was probably one of only a hand full of people in the entire world who had ever seen this man blush, and that was strangely arousing, I'm not even sure why.

"Is this ok" He asked with apprehension in his voice and a tension in his body that suggested that if it were not he would be jumping off in 1.57 seconds.

"Oh god yes" I replied with a wicked smile as I put a hand on his hip. He only jumped a bit at the unexpected contact but smiled at being allowed to stay in my lap. I took a fist full of curls in my hand and dragged his face back down to kiss him again. This went on for quite some time before Sherlock decided to break the silence.

"So, this romantic relationship... will it include... sex?" He blushed a shade darker and looked quite uncomfortable, but from arousal or embarassment I couldn't be sure.

"Do you want it to?" I had to ask because with Sherlock I  was just never sure. His eyes seemed to bug out for a moment before he answered.

"Oh god yes." And we took a second to laugh at that, "I just wasn't sure how... comfortable you would be in a homosexual relationship"

"You really are dense sometimes, we've been making out on your bed for the last," I stopped to check my watch, "thirty minutes and _now_ you stop to question my sexuality? I've had feelings for you since the day I met you, and they only keep getting stronger."

"So, sex then?" He asked as a trembling hand started on a path to my shirt buttons.

"Hold your horses there, we can take this slow. It's not like we don't have time, besides have you even had sex before Sherlock?" He turned red again. I went years with out seeing the man blush and how I've seen it _twice_ in one night.

"Maybe not, so? Does that make a difference?" He was being defensive now and getting even redder.

"Not particularly, we just won't go fast. Take things one step at a time, and we'll get to sex eventually." Sherlock looked like he wanted to say something but he held his tongue. I gave him a kiss on the nose. "Come on, lets get ready for bed."

"John... ah, um... mhmhmhm" All I heard was John, and then he started mumbling to low for me to understand him.

"I'm sorry Sherlock what was that?"

"I said, would you sleep with me tonight? Just sleep, I know but..."

"Of course Sherlock, come on though, its getting late." My heart gave a warm little flutter. After we changed we settled down in the bed we had just shared our first kiss on (it was baffling the change in personality Sherlock went through in such a short time, he was actually being _shy_.) I could see him squirming on his side of the bed trying to decide if he could scotch the six inches to where I was laying without my noticing. I spared him the decision and moved to him, wrapping my arms around him and cuddling up close.

After a second of indecision he relaxed and leaned into me. "Thank you" came a quiet whisper from in front of me.

"For what"

"For... everything, putting up with me, coming to meet my mother, returning my feelings, understanding that this is so very new to me and taking it slow, and all of the other things you've done for me that I don't even realize. And the things that you don't think I realize, like when you drug my tea to get me to sleep when I've been up for more than five days, putting me into bed when you do, and peeking in my room at night to make sure I have a blanket on when I sleep." I blushed this time, I didn't realize he knew about those things but he didn't seem mad.

"Your welcome, but most of those don't need thanking, because they're things that should be done without a thought. Of course I'll take it slow, that's just how it should be; but I'm _not_ sorry for drugging your tea, sometimes you really do need it, and I worry."

"Oh, thank you for worrying too." He shifted to bestow a tentative kiss to my temple. I gave him one in return.

"Good night Sherlock."

"Good night John"


	4. Chapter 4

After a wonderful rest I woke up to a very warm bed and a face full of raven curls, as Sherlock shifted I became aware of a problem that needed tending to. I tried to sneak out to deal with it in the bathroom but that just wasn't happening as Sherlocks arms constricted around me and locking in to place. This was a conundrum, I couldn't do anything about it until I got up but ignoring it wasn't an option either with a very hot consulting detective snuggled tight around me. Theres not much to do until he wakes up I suppose. I'm certinly not going to wake him up myself, he doesn't sleep enough for my conscience to be ok with that. After a while I did fall asleep again, there wasn't much else to do with Sherlock sleeping more soundly than I've ever seen him.

The next time I woke up it was to a hand at my crotch and a low moan in my throat. Opening my eyes I saw Sherlock watching my face intently with a hand down my pants.  
  
"Sh-Sherlock, what are you doing?"  
  
"John I thought you were experienced enough to have figured that out by now?" He paused, "Am I doing it improperly? I looked up the correct technique on my phone and I believe the execution is adequate from the verbalization I heard."  
  
"Verbal- what! No Sherlock. I thought we were going to take this slow?" I asked taking his wrist in mine and pulling it out of my pants with all the self controle I possess.  
  
"Do you not like being woken up with sex?"  
  
"Sherlock, you're missing the point, whether or not I like it is irrelevant if you aren't ready for it." I was still holding his wrist so I  
gave it a squeeze, "Do you understand?"  
  
"How do you know I'm not ready for sex now?" He challenged.  
  
"Have you even done anything close to sex? Have you even kissed someone before? And before you answer kissing your mother  
doesn't count."  
  
"No," He sounded and looked like a petulant child, with his eyes downcast and a pout on his lips.  
  
"It's ok, I'm not going anywhere. we will work up to it but we're just not there yet. Ok?" I brought his chin up to meet his eyes and  
gave him a peck on the lips before getting up.  
  
"Where are you going?" He seamed almost worried, this is going to take some getting used to.  
  
"Relax I'm just going to the bathroom." I gave him another peck to reassure him.  
  
"To wank?" He looked annoyed now. I sighed at his bluntness.  
  
"Yes Sherlock, to wank. I'm not going to walk around like this all day and it wont go away on its own. That's the end of this discussion for now."   
  
He didn't say anything but the stare drilling into the back of my head said that this wasn't over. I could swear last night his hands were shaking just thinking about unbuttoning my _shirt_ , now he's trying to stick his hands down my pants (and succeeding might I add). Honestly if it weren't for the fact that he had seamed so relieved last night about not having to do anything then I wouldn't have stopped him but it was just such a 180.   
  
After a wonderful _guilt free_ wank with fantasy about my flat mate (if he has feelings for me to, then this is far less creapy) I got ready for the day with a shower and a fresh set of clothes. Returning to Sherlocks room he was in the same spot he had been before but his clothes had changed, leading me to believe that he had not in fact been sitting in the same spot sulking the entire time. This made me wonder if every time I lift the room and came back hours later Sherlock had actually sat there for the entire time or just wanted me to think he had.   
   
I sat back in my previous spot and waited for Sherlock to say something. Eventually he would, it was just a matter of time. Twenty minutes it seams.  
  
"I do not want you to get bored because I cannot "put out"" He said with air quotes around put out. He looked... ashamed? That must be it, yes ashamed; which made me feel guilty, for what I'm not sure.  
  
"Why would you think I would get bored?"  
  
"Because you're not getting any sex."  
  
"Sherlock, I most certainly won't get bored, you're far to active for me to get bored trying to keep up. And this isn't about sex Sherlock." He was finally looking up at me.  
  
"What is it about then?" I'm not sure he actually believed me, and he was starting to look exasperated.  
  
"Companionship, the sex comes later. When you're ready for it, not because you feel you have an obligation to fulfill."  
  
"But all of the chat rooms sa-"  
  
"Sherlock!" I cut him off because the internet was so not where we were going to get relationship advice from, "I don't care what you read on the internet, listen to what _I'm_ telling you," I paused and held his eyes until he nodded his understanding, "Now, you're going to stop trying to get into my pants because _the internet told you to_." He nodded again, "You are only going to get into my pants when you want to." I couldn't resist the snicker that I was only able to partially muffle, really I couldn't. But it was worth it to see him turn pink again. I stood to leave, maybe find some breakfast, but was pulled back down again.  
  
"Thank you... again." He said and wrapped his arms around me and laying his head on my good shoulder and just sitting there for a wile. I relaxed into the touch and pulled him a little closer. We sat there for a few more minutes until my stomach gurgled and ruined the moment. "Would you like to go downstairs and get something to eat, Gregory makes wonderful crepes?"  
  
"Gregory?" I asked having no clue who that was.  
  
"The Chef, come now you didn't think that in a house this large Mummy lives alone and cookes for herself? How do you think you got dinner last night."  
  
"I was a tad distracted last night, I didn't notice much of anything about dinner."   
  
"What a shame, other than the fungus you probably would have liked it. Now on to crepes." He actually seemed excited...  
about _food..._ Sherlock! This i have to see. I followed him down to the kitchens where there was a bustling staff of maybe fifteen people rushing about.  
  
  
"Sherlock, how many people does your mother employ?" This was a lot of people, but then again the mansion must have had forty plus rooms to clean and then there were the gardens that I just saw on the side of the house, there was the food to make for all of the people that worked there then there was actually taking care of the other people that came. I'm tired just thinking about it.   
  
"Twenty three, each with their own job to do." He said pausing to stop a pretty young girl, maybe twenty four, "Excuse me Sally, have you seen Gregory?"   
  
" 'Course Sir, he's back in the breakfast room overseeing the new kitchen maid, she's been havin' a bit of trouble with her silverware." The girl gave him an exasperated look that said 'Another one, why are they so stupid?' Sherlock chuckled in return and kept going. She called him sir, she made a joke, (kind of) and got Sherlock to laugh (kind of). This is so weird, but in a good way, he seams more relaxed here. I suppose it is his home. 

We moved out of the hustle and bustle of the kitchen into what must be the breakfast room where there was an older man trying not to shout at another young girl.  
  
"NO!" pause for a breath and a hair ruffle, "No, why would the soup spoon go on your left and your tea spoon go on your right, think girl think." He almost shouted.  
  
"I'm sorry, its just, why do there have to be so many? Do you really need three spoons?" The girl was going red and looked about to cry.  
  
"Yes, you do they are fo-" He seamed to have given up hope, "We'll try again later, it's almost breakfast. Tell Sally and Trisha they can come finish the table." She bowed and promptly ran from the room.  
  
"Good morning Gregory, I see you're enjoying training the new recruit."  
  
"Oh, hello Sherlock, how have you been. You haven't been home in a while now; London and dead bodies keeping you busy?"   
  
"Oh quite. I was wondering, do you think if I asked you enough I could wear you down to the point where you'd make crepes?"  
  
"For you of course! if not for my crepes you would have just floated away as a child, I see your not far from it now."   
  
"John makes me eat more than enough."  
  
"No Sherlock I _try_ to make you eat enough, you should eat far more than you do." I put in.  
  
"Semantics." he waved me off.  
  
"I'll go whip them up, fifteen minutes, that's perfect timing everything else will be ready then too."  
  
"I'll give John a quick tour then, come on." And we were walking again. The next room was very bright with floor to sealing windows on the walls facing out and bookshelves on the other two, they were filled with old leather bound books and curios. "This is the conservatory, and out there are the gardens. A lot of the fruits and vegetables Gregory uses are from our gardens, by his insistence. Though obviously we won't be growing coconuts and oranges and we can't passably grow enough to feed everyone considering it takes about an acre of farm land to feed a single person."

He took me through most of the rooms on the first floor before we turned back to the breakfast room. This whole place seamed so old fashioned, with maids and house staff, Sherlock said they even have a stable and groomsman.


End file.
